


It's written in the scars of our hearts

by Obeymepoptart



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crying, F/M, Men Crying, No beta we die like lilith, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obeymepoptart/pseuds/Obeymepoptart
Summary: Spoilers for Chapter 16 (I think, its 16!). This story arc always felt very rushed to me, so here's a more in-depth exploration.Post-attack, Yuki freaks out, Mammon is angry, and Belphie feels guilty.
Relationships: Beelzebub & Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor & Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor & Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 239





	1. Mammon's Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I made this MC/Mammon, because Mammon was the only brother to have even a mildly concerned response about what happened.

If anyone asked Mammon, Barbatos was one scary motherfucker.

For a brief moment, he was holding his human, dying in his arms, grief like a fucking knife at his throat, her blood pumping warm and red over his arms. He could feel the ripple along his back of his demon transformation coming on, his heart racing and his mind set on vengeance and violence. He was going to rip Belphie’s heart out, for starters. 

The next thing he knew, Yuki had disappeared from his arms and was bounding from on top of the stairs, screaming at Belphie to stop and something about Lilith, and Lord Diavolo and Barbatos had appeared.

He barely paid attention to Yuki and Lord Diavolo’s explanation on how Yuki was Lilith’s descendant. All he could do was stare at Yuki in relief, trying to reconcile the fact that she was still alive when he could still feel her blood, sticky on his arms. Clearly, there was some fucking heavy time magic involved, hence Barbatos. Mammon shuddered, wondering what would be happening now if Barbatos hadn’t intervened. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t fucking watch Belphie though, who seemed to have some fucking sort of glorious epiphany. Belphie started wailing and crying, and Mammon just wanted to shred his face with his claws.

Somehow, they all ended up in the living room, his brothers fighting for Yuki’s attention. Mammon wanted to be close to her, needed to be close to her, to touch her and prove that she was really here, really alive. Oh, how he wanted. 

But anger had him by the throat, and he couldn’t help but balefully glare at Belphie. He loved his brother, but he sure as hell wasn’t forgetting anytime soon, and he’s not sure he believes in forgiveness since the Fall. And Belphie knows, which is why he can’t quite seem to meet Mammon’s golden eyed gaze.

Beel, always Belphie’s protector, took his twin by the shoulders and subtly placed his own bigger brawnier self between Mammon and Belphie. It made Mammon want to grin ferally at Beel. Despite his strength, Mammon was faster. If he wanted to hurt Belphie, Beel would not be fast enough. He wanted to, his fists clenching, claws piercing into the soft meat of his palms.

A lot of things can be said about Mammon. But he’s never been one for wanton violence. He’s got half a mind to change that right now.

Satan’s green eyes narrowed, and he shot a look at Mammon. He clearly was feeling Mammon’s anger rising. 

Satan’s not the only one. Lucifer is about to take a step toward him, when Yuki suddenly shot up from the couch, shaking, wild-eyed, taking stumbling steps away from the couch that she had crowded into. “... I can’t breathe…” she wheezed.

Everyone got up instantly, concerned looks on their faces, and she made panicky, jerky motions with her arms as she kept backing away. “... I need…. Some space,” she choked out. 

It tore at Mammon. He thought the feeling of her dying in his arms would be the worse thing he could possibly experience. But this? This felt worse. Because she was alive and suffering. You could literally feel the terror pouring out of her pores. It tasted bitter and acrid on his tongue, and Mammon felt like he wanted to vomit. Which was strange. Demons typically feasted on the extreme emotions of humans, terror adding a certain piquancy to whatever torment was being visited on the human in question. He shouldn’t feel sick, but he felt his own stomach clench, and his heart beat erratically. 

“I can’t… be here, right now,” Yuki cried out, tears streaming down her face. Mammon’s vision narrowed. He was sure his brothers felt devastated, but he couldn’t focus on them right now. Right now, his human was in pain and suffering, and what would have been nothing but bread and butter for a demon’s sensibilities felt like a searing pain shot through him like when his wings burned during his fall. 

“Mammon… Mammon, please…. Take me to my room, please… oh god…” Yuki sobbed out, and Mammon was at her side in a flash, and wrapped her up in his arms like she was made of glass. She hid her face against his collarbone, and it was so hot, like a burning coal, and he could feel his shirt getting wet from her tears. He hoisted up in his arms, princess-style and walked out of the living room. 

It was the longest walk of his entire immortal life.

She weighed nothing. But it was the heaviest burden he ever carried. She cried, open mouthed, guttural moans, incomprehensible words. It just poured out of her, her face hidden against his chest, as if somehow he could shield her.

Despair knifed Mammon. He had once jokingly told her that he didn’t want anyone else to step in and save her. If he didn’t save her, that she should die instead. He can’t believe that he said that. And like a curse, it came true. He had been unable to save her. And she had died. He had failed to protect her, and she had fucking died. And it was all his fault. What’s the point of being the second most powerful demon in all of Devildom if he fucking failed? He hadn’t been fast enough. He hadn’t been strong enough. He hadn’t been smart enough to see what was happening and to stop it. And she had died.

He can’t recall how he managed to open the door to her room, but he managed. He just sat down on the bed, and started to rock them both, rubbing her back as she continued to cry. He put his cheek on top of her hair, and closed his eyes. He had come so close to losing her. And now, he still didn’t fucking know what to do. He could feel tears gathering under his lashes, unbidden, and sliding down his face. Had she laughed yesterday, and swatted him with her notebook over borrowing her Herbology notes? It felt like a fucking millennia ago. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

She sniffled wetly and loudly, wiping her nose on her right sleeve. Mammon reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the tissue packet that Yuki had given him three days ago. She took the tissue packet and blew her nose loudly, tossing the used tissues on the floor. Normally, Mammon would have teased her about how gross humans are, but all he can do is hold her tighter instead. Her right hand comes up to touch the cheek not resting against her head, and then she touched her ring finger to her thumb, rubbing the wetness from Mammon’s tears as if to confirm their existence.   


  
“I’m sorry, Mammon… I ruined your shirt,” Yuki said hoarsely.   


  
“Doncha worry about it. I got others,” Mammon said softly. She could use all of his t-shirts as handkerchiefs if she wanted. He gave zero fucks. So what if he was covered in snot and human tears right now? It proved that she was here, and that she was alive.

“I’m sorry I lost it back there,” Yuki apologized, her voice watery.

“Don’t. Just don’t. We’re the ones that should be apologizing to ya,” Mammon growled. Fucking Belphie should be apologizing, not the other way around. He should be apologizing. He failed her.

“Can we stay like this for a little while longer?” Yuki asked tremulously, with red and swollen eyes. Her skin was all blotchy, and Mammon felt tears start gathering again. He blinked them away furiously. He wasn’t going to cry anymore, not right now. Yuki needed him right now, and she was more important than whatever the fuck he was feeling.

“As long as you want, my human. As long as you want,” Mammon said reassuringly. “Just let me get rid of this shirt and jacket.” Yuki lifted her head and shifted her torso away from him but stayed on his lap. Mammon shrugged out of his jacket, and stripped off his t-shirt. He gathered her back into his arms, and she pressed her cheek against his bare skin. He’d fantasized about this exact moment of course. His heart thumped, but he knew that what Yuki needed was comfort in this precise moment, and he wanted to prove that he could take care of her. He rubbed her rib cage slowly, soothingly. He went back to rocking her gently, her ear pressed against his chest, hearing his heart beat.


	2. Belphegor's Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regret is a powerful emotion. From Belphie's POV.

If anyone asked Belphie, Barbatos was one scary motherfucker.

Imagine the absolute power of being able to choose from infinite possibilities and collapse them into a singular reality. Or to jump from one timeline to another. Had Belphie known before what Barbatos was capable of, he would have gone back and saved Lilith. Now that he does know, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.

He knew he fucked up. 110% knew that, without a shred of doubt. It doesn’t matter that whatever timeline Yuki had come back from, he never killed her (it seems like Beel, himself, and Yuki are currently on the run from his brothers, Lucifer, and Lord Diavolo, which just seems unbelievable, actually). She still saw her own death, and if Belphie remembered anything about mortals is that they are fragile creatures. Even non-physical things could break them.

The irony, how he wanted to eradicate humans, was not lost on him. And here he was, wallowing in the guilt and knowledge that he had killed the one human that cared about him, and that he himself may actually cared about. The fact that she happened to be Lilith’s great-great-fuckton-great grand-daughter was not lost on him. It smacked of his Father’s doing, and he wouldn’t put it past the Old Man to have planned something like this.

The absolute insanity of the rollercoaster of his feelings meant he’s just beginning to grasp the profundity of his actions. He had wanted to run after her, when she started shaking and crying, but he had seen Mammon’s typically blue-eyed gaze turn gold in volcanic anger. And there had been no trace of his greedy, simply idiotic brother in that instance. Mammon didn’t typically anger, but Belphie remembered a few decades of fights right after the Fall. He wasn’t afraid of Mammon.

But it was enough to simply let Beel’s arm restrain him. His twin had turned worried purple eyes at him, and had shaken his head no. So he had done absolutely nothing as Mammon carried her out of the living room, away from them all. 

And he had to deal with what remained in her wake. Both Levi and Asmo made it plenty clear with their glares. Satan looked like he was ready to turn into his Devil form, and was breathing largely and slowly in attempts to calm himself down. Belphie didn’t even need to look at Lucifer to feel his anger and disappointment. All of his older brothers had doted on Belphie, or always had been sort of lax with him when it came to retaliation, and he had always thrived on it. Okay, he was a bit of a brat, but they had always forgiven him. Even if it meant that they extracted revenge at a later day for some prank or slight.

They had never ever looked at him with such anger, disappointment and censure in their eyes. He honestly expected curses and hexes to start flying at him. It actually made it worse when they did nothing. Said nothing. All his brothers did was look. It made his stomach turn into a pit of acid, and he felt bile coat the back of his throat, viscous and vicious. 

Belphie wanted to run out of the living room himself. He’d run down to Lord Diabolo’s castle and talk to Barbatos. Surely, Barbatos had the power to send him back. It had just happened. He could fix it. Fix all of it. He would just stroll out of the attic, confront Lucifer. And that’s all he would do. And then, everything would be different. He knew better now. He’d do better now. HE would be better. He would never hurt Yuki again. Never. He finally had a piece of Lilith back. Alive, and well. He couldn’t afford to lose that again. 

But in his heart of hearts, Belphie knew this would never happen. Lord Diavolo would probably see his remorse and regret as the proper punishment for his sins. Fucker probably chose this one timeline because of it. Because Lord Diavolo knew Belphie right now would give anything and everything in his power to take it back. 

And this was the price of his insubordination. Belphie gritted his teeth, biting down on his own tongue, tasting blood. He knew he’s supposed to make amends. Except how the fuck do you say “Sorry, I know I killed you but I was wrong, and I’m really sorry about that?”. Regret is not enough. Remorse is not enough. And what’s the point of crawling on broken glass to beg for forgiveness if you’re not going to be forgiven for what you did because it was so monstrous to begin with? If his own father couldn’t forgive him, what hope was there that a tiny slip of a human girl that he had lied and manipulated could ever find it in her frail mortal heart to forgive him?

Belphie closed his eyes, felt tears start to gather under his lashes, and he just wanted to howl. Instead, all he heard was Beel’s voice saying, “I’ll take Belphie to our room now.”

*******

Beel just stood there, letting Belphie howl into his chest, letting Belphie pound against his chest with furious fists, absorbing all of the things that come pouring out of Belphie like a volcano. Beel didn’t try to talk or to hold Belphie, he didn’t need to. Belphie understood that this was his twin’s love. To be there and bear witness to Belphie’s suffering and self-flagellation. 

Belphie felt even more unworthy. He really would feel better if at least someone hit him. He fucking deserved it. He deserved every single curse, hex, and violence that his brothers thought he deserved. He would have gladly offered himself up to Yuki’s abuse, let her carve his heart out if that’s what she wanted, in an eternity of pain. But he knew that Yuki would never do that. Because she was kind. She’d been kind to him when he was locked in the attic. And he’d used and abused her kindness. And she would never be kind to him again. And it would be what he deserves. That just made Belphie cry all that much harder, and bury his face in Beel’s chest, as if he was trying to climb inside of Beel, trying to get away from himself.

Belphie was a demon, a fallen angel, an avatar of sin. He knew what it meant to be loathed, hated, and feared. He knew he was a monster, had never wished that he was anything other than himself. Except now. 

Beel just patted his head with his large hand. Belphie knew he had to be worried about Yuki, and here he was with his twin instead. He had made Beel choose between two people he cared about. 

Again.

“I’m so sorry, Beel,” Belphie whispered hoarsely. His throat felt scratchy and on fire.

“I know,” Beel said simply. Belphie felt undone. His twin was always a source of acceptance. And it was a balm on Belphie’s broken heart. “You just have let everyone else know that you’re sorry.”

Belphie wished that it would only be so simple as that.

*******

After Beel had finally fallen asleep, Belphie padded down to his older brother’s study. He found Lucifer, not working on paperwork for once, but staring into the fire. Lucifer seemed utterly unsurprised at finding Belphie walk through the door. As if he hadn’t been kept prisoner in the attic for months. Belphie just sank into the other chair, not waiting for his big brother to motion to him. 

“I have to say I’m actually surprised to see you here,” Lucifer said after at least a quarter of an hour had passed with nothing but the sound of a cackling fire between them.

Belphie grunted. He wasn’t sure he knew what he was doing here to be precise. How does one go about confronting your older brother who instead of allowing the Prince of Devildom to obliterate from existence for your defiance magically imprisoned you for months in an attic and lied to everyone about your whereabouts like a kidnapper? Was he supposed to say thank you or call him a raging dick? Or both? They certainly didn’t cover this the fucking protocol classes that Lucifer insisted on enrolling them in. 

Lucifer sighed, and it grated mildly on Belphie’s nerves. But he tamped down on his irritation because despite it all, Lucifer had tried to protect him in his own heavy handed way. Without explanations. “I was wrong, and you were right,” Belphie spit out. 

“Is that really why you came to see me?” Lucifer asked.

Belphie shook his head and turned haunted eyes at his older brother. This is the first time since the incident that he actually looked at his older brother in his face, and it was harder than he expected. He must have looked absolutely pathetic because Lucifer’s gaze thawed marginally, and his shoulders relax marginally.

“Anger is not without its consequences,” Lucifer stated.

Belphie shot his older brother a look. Really? Lucifer’s anger had been so great as to literally birth an avatar of sin. And he still fucking managed to lecture him about the consequences of anger? Gimme a fucking break.

“I was also wrong,” Lucifer admitted.

Belphie inhaled his breath sharply. He could literally count the times that Lucifer had admitted to being wrong on one hand, and have fingers to spare. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Lucifer said sardonically. “Yuki made it patently clear that I had tried to right a wrong with another wrong. And it does not make it right.”

And there it was, the elephant in the room. Sort of. Maybe there were a herd of elephants. 

“You should have let us know about Lilith,” Belphie said accusingly. It still stung. Lucifer had kept that to himself. He wouldn’t have hurt Yuki, wouldn’t have hated mortals, wouldn’t have acted the way he did if he had known his sister had lived.

“I thought it would be safer for all of us, Lord Diavolo included, if I only knew the truth,” Lucifer admitted. “I could not endanger Lilith, Lord Diavolo, or any of you to Father’s wrath. Again.”

Belphie knew it had been an untenable situation. The Old Man wasn’t the forgiving sort. And if he had found out what Lord Diavolo had done, the war between Devildom and the Celestial Realm would still be raging today. It would make whatever Cold War they currently were engaging in absolute disaster for anything sentient. 

“You didn’t trust us not to make that choice,” Belphie said bitterly.

There was a loaded silence. Would Belphie had done differently, if he was being honest to himself? If he had been him, who had struck the bargain with Lord Diavolo? Would he had told the others if his sister’s life hung in the balance? Belphie chanced a glance at Lucifer, and it explained so much about his older brother. He could see that this secret had eaten away at him. At all of them, corroding the foundation of their relationships. A poison at the heart of his family. 

“I did not. I thought I knew better. Yuki hurled the same arrow at me,” Lucifer confessed.

Of course she did. Lilith would have done the same. She would not have been afraid to confront Lucifer, or fear his wrath. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Belphie’s eyes were too bruised to continue crying. His hands gripped the hands of the chair. 

“She’s not Lilith,” Lucifer said softly.

“I know that,” Belphie snapped a little too quickly. She wasn’t the same. Not exactly. Yuki was wholly mortal, and more fragile than Lilith. They shared the same spark though. She felt like a second chance. One that Belphie had truly fucked up on. Regret settled on him like his favorite blanket. 

“Do you?” Lucifer prodded.

Belphie went back to watching the fire. 

*******

The next few days are terrible. Yuki is subdued, and his brothers are attentive to her like a mother hen to a baby chick. Belphie can see them try not to crowd her, hovering in the periphery, ready to intervene if she needed or wanted anything. Belphie would have sneered at their behavior, if he himself didn’t feel so desperate to be close to her. But if she was their sun, Belphie was Pluto. He knew he had to keep his distance, punished to the very edges. She couldn’t even look at him when he spoke to others, and Belphie had never felt so cold.

Mammon watched him like a hawk, eyes hot and serious. Every time Belphie thought about inching closer, Mammon was there, in his way. Belphie couldn’t blame him. 

The nights are even worse. Yuki can’t seem to be able to sleep alone anymore. His brothers are more than happy to have her in their beds, hold her and soothe away her tears. And just watch her sleep. Demons need less sleep than humans. 

One night, she fell asleep between Levi, Mammon, and Beel after a TSL marathon. Another night, she fell asleep in Asmo’s room after Asmo pampered her with a spa night. Another night, she fell asleep to Satan reading mortal children’s fairytales to her in his lovely soothing voice. One night, he found her curled up in the divan in Lucifer’s study while his older brother worked on paperwork. 

It ate at him. He was the Avatar of Sloth, the sleepiest demon of them all. And she would never ever fall asleep with him. He’d never be the last thing she would see before she fell asleep, or the first thing she would see when she woke up. He would never have her soft breathing, their breaths intermingling with every inhale and exhale. She would never trust him like that again.

So he snuck into her dreams. He didn’t participate, but merely watched from afar. It was the only thing he had of her.

So when her nightmare started, it rang in his head, clear like a church bell. He didn’t even think twice, but raced in there with his magic. And what he saw threatened to break him apart.

She was wailing, having lost her arms again, bleeding out. Her eyes, wide open in fear and absolutely terrified when she saw him. She screamed, a sound that echoed devastation inside Belphie. He saw how she saw him in that moment, and it made him feel truly damned.

But in this case, he could change things. He could literally change her mind and dreams. He ran to Yuki, and kissed her on the forehead. Immediately, her nightmare stopped, her arms were back, and the blood was gone. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was normal. Belphie held this sleeping Yuki in her own dreams, and cried for broken dreams and happily ever afters he didn’t know he had until it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this fic is literally writing itself. I think having a playlist helps.


	3. Your Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you become okay with your own death? How do you move forward?

How do you get over your own death? Are you suffering from a form of survivor’s guilt? The human mind isn’t really used to dealing with mortality. In fact, dwelling on the possibility of your own death is considered deeply morbid in the modern West. You suppose your experience is alot like clinical death. It wasn’t as if you were dead for long. Somewhere you read that after you die, emergency personnel have six minutes to get your heart going again. Six minutes.

Maybe its cognitive dissonance? You have both sets of memories, a side effect that unfortunately not even Barbatos can undo. You remember dying. You take a slow breath, feel your own heart beat with one hand, a reminder that you’re still here. But you don’t think that’s the worse part.

It wasn’t an accident. Belphie deliberately killed you. 

That’s a fact.

And it stands between both of you like an immovable object. You can see it in his eyes. And he can see it in you. And until you talk about it, it's going to stay there. Even if you do talk about it, it will stay there. Because it's not so much about the death, but the fact that he manipulated you, broke your trust, and ultimately hurt you. And none of those things are small things. In fact, relationships have died over any one of those issues. 

There are things you know. You know you can’t go back. There’s never going back in life. There’s only forward. Even if the way forward is to walk through the pain and the fear. You recited the Litany of Fear to yourself. Or rather a version you heard in the Dune mini-series. 

_ “I must not fear. _

_ Fear is the mind-killer. _

_ I will face my fear. _

_ I will permit it to pass through me. _

_ When the fear is gone, there will be nothing. _

_ Only I will remain.” _

Did that make you a nerd? It didn’t matter. It was a reminder that you had control over your emotions, not the other way around.

And a life living in fear is no life at all. 

But in the immortal words of Tay-tay,  _ now we got bad blood, now we got problems, and I don’t know how to solve them _ . You know Mammon is angry at Belphie. But that’s for them to resolve. You’re not going to fix that for them. 

Especially since you and Belphie have your own problems to resolve. The thing you’re struggling with right now is the choice you have. You can either try to resolve it, or just let it go. You can pretty much graph everyone in the House of Lamentation on a spectrum. On one end, you have Beel, who clearly wants you and Belphie to work it out. On the other end, you have Mammon, who would clearly be happy if you ignored Belphie for the rest of your mortal life and had nothing to do with him. Everyone else sort of fell on a spectrum between those two poles.

But the balls in your court, and you can take your sweet time deciding what to do. You can’t even tell if Belphie wants to work it out or not. He’s kept himself away, and you appreciate that. You’re not ready to face him yet. 

*******

As is your habit, you made a playlist. Some songs you listened on repeat for hours on end. Others, you let cycle through. The music helped, somewhat, process through what has happened. It’s an outlet. You got lost in lyrics, singing to yourself.

You sang about bad blood, about scars on your heart, about saying something, about shaking it off, about pretending and making believe, about running up hills and making deals with god, about plans that ended in disaster, about it hurting with every heart beat.

You’re not sure what the brothers think of all the singing. You just turn the volume up, and let the music drown everything else out. Levi has however gifted you with a pair of over the ear headphones just like his, and you use them as well as it gets later and later.

You’re sleeping less. And you can’t sleep alone anymore. Mammon is more than happy to sleep in your room or have you show up to his. But you also know he needs his own space to process. Which clearly he’s not doing. But he’s really not going to if you’re there. So you carry on activities as best you can. You let Levi host another TSL marathon in your room. You let Asmo pamper you one night, shampoo your hair, massage your shoulders, and give you a facial. You let Satan show up one night with a book of human fairytales and lull you to sleep with that melodic voice of his. One night, you even ended up in Lucifer’s study. He was doing paperwork, and you just sort of stumbled onto the divan. You fell asleep watching him do paperwork, which was oddly soothing. A reminder that some things haven’t changed.

You’re working through it. It isn’t easy. It isn’t simple. You always thought mercy would be easy for you. But life is rarely that uncomplicated, and theory is always easier than practice. You have so many feelings. 

But you also know that if you and Belphie don’t find a way to solve things, its just going to destroy the brothers’ relationships with each other. Oh, it won’t happen overnight or overtly dramatically. Well, maybe for Mammon. But it would just be a gradual cooling. In fact, so gradual and cool that before they realized it, they would end up on their own icebergs. You’ve seen it with your aunt (your mom’s sister) and her husband. They’re so cool and polite with each other, it’s like they are strangers, even when they live in the same house and are still legally married. They share nothing. And it’s fucking sad and depressing.

You don’t want to be the reason for that. Shit, look at that Lilith debacle. Fucking unresolved feelings all around. And how many thousands of years was that? The dynamics were dysfunctional enough, thankyouverymuch. You rather not add jet fuel to that fire. Pretty sure that wouldn’t have been what Lilith wanted. It would probably also completely tank Lord Diavolo’s exchange program. Which probably is already stunning success seeing that Belphie may have reformed his opinion on humans, if Beel is right. 

You know what you think is the right thing. You just need to summon your courage to do it. Fear is the mind-killer, you tell yourself.

*******

You paddled in your pajamas down the hall. You had made your decision. You knocked on the door, and Beel opened the door to the twin’s room.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” you asked, looking up at Beel.

“Here?” Beel repeated slowly, searching your face. You nodded slowly and seriously, and saw a smile break on Beel’s face like sunshine, and it was so bright that you had to smile back gently at him.

Belphie is sitting bolt upright on his bed, looking at both of you like a cornered animal. 

“Hey.” You said after Beel let you in.

“Hey,” Belphie replied softly.

You walked slowly to his bed. Belphie just moved as far back against the headboard as he could. “... I think we need to talk.”

Belphie’s breathing is fast, and his purple eyes looked a little wild. He swallowed conspicuously. 

“I’m going to say a few things. And then I’m going to give you a chance to respond. And then I’ll respond to what you say,” you outlined, not breaking eye contact. Belphie just nodded his agreement.

“We can’t go back. Things will never be the same,” you said carefully. You saw Belphie’s face crumple, his eyes get sadder, and he nodded in the silence you left after those statements. It actually encouraged you. “You lied to me, manipulated me, and then actually managed to kill me. I have these horrible memories. I have these nightmares,” you said, although the nightmares didn’t seem to exist after the first horrible one. Every time you started to dream about that moment, things would go black and when you woke up, you couldn’t remember a damn thing. “I’m struggling with what happened. I hope that I won’t struggle with it forever. But it’s going to take time. I don’t trust you.”

“I know. And it’s all my fault,” Belphie said in a sad, tinny voice, heartbreak and sincerity in every word. “I lied to you, I manipulated you, and I hurt you. And I can’t tell you much I regret it. And even if I could, it won’t change the fact that I did all those things.”

“What if I told you I wanted nothing to do with you?”

Belphie whimpered and looked down. “If that’s what you want, I don’t blame you…. I’d stay out of your way. You wouldn’t have to talk to me, or be in the same room as me. We can work something out.”

“What if I told you I wanted you to be brave with me instead?”

Belphie’s shocked face looks up to yours. Your heart is pounding in your ears. 

“We can’t go back. But we can go forward. Do you want to build something new with me instead?”

Belphie throws himself at you, almost tackling you off the bed, but thankfully Beel catches both of you before you hit the floor. His face is buried against your neck, and you can feel his tears against your skin.

And maybe, forgiveness isn’t as hard as you think it is.

*******

You’re still awake, even if you are a little drowsy. Both Beel and Belphie are asleep, cuddled up to next to you, one on your left and one on your right. It’s been an emotional night for everyone involved, and you should be dead asleep but there’s still alot to process. 

You know that you haven’t solved things or magically fixed things with just a conversation. You and Belphie are going to have to work, really work, at building trust and rebuilding your relationship with each other. And in Belphie’s case, he’s also going to have to work on rebuilding the relationships with his brothers.

But you have to start somewhere. And sometimes the hardest step is the first step. “I will face my fear,” you said softly to yourself.    


“ What is that?” Belphie asked softly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked at his face, illuminated by moonlight, his purple eyes gazing up with a clearer gaze than anyone who was supposed to be sleeping. “It’s a prayer I say that makes me center myself. It’s called the Litany of Fear. Want to hear the rest of it?”

Belphie nodded, and you recited the entire Litany of Fear from the beginning. Belphie’s eyes were serious. “I’ve never heard a prayer like that before.”

You chuckled a little. “It’s because it’s not really a prayer. It’s from a work of fiction, called Dune. It’s a prayer in this fictional universe. But I find it helpful. I guess that makes me a nerd like Levi.”

“Maybe a little,” Belphie said with a small, soft smile. Baby steps, you thought to yourself. You knew both of you would be careful with each other, in how you handled each other, hyper conscious of the other person at least for a little while, just to be careful not to cut yourself on the sharp edges that your death had caused. It would leave a mark, maybe even a scar, but hopefully it would heal. It would always be a tender spot, but it didn’t have to be more than that.

There’s a peaceful moment of silence between both of you, in which both of you had just shared something, just lying on a bed, hearing Beel’s snores rumble softly, breathing in the same moment. Another baby step.

“I’m afraid to ask you something,” Bephie’s voice interrupted your contemplations.

“I must not fear,” you replied, with what you hoped was an encouraging smile, even when your pulse jumped a little. You breathed out slowly to calm yourself.

Belphie did not continue. It’s hard to read his face. Actually, if you’re honest to yourself, Belphie seemed to spend alot of his time frowning. Probably a by-product of all the blame he seemed to assign to everyone and anyone. Having an axe to grind is a terrible thing.

“.... Are you afraid of me?” Belphie asked.

Oh. 

You weren’t quite expecting Belphie to be so direct. You glanced at him, and saw his eyes watching you intently. You took a minute to think. Were you afraid of Belphie? And if so, what would it mean to say so? But an honest question required an honest answer.

“I think, in this moment, part of me does. But there’s part of me that recognizes that the only way to deal with fear is to go through it. But feelings aren’t static. How I feel now will not be how I feel, always.”

“I don’t like the answer,” Belphie admitted, a sulky pout on his lips.

“Tough shit, Sherlock. You got us into this mess. You’re gonna do the work to fix it. And it’s probably gonna be ugly for a while. It always is.”

“Ugh, just how old are you? Why do you sound like a crone?”

“How many human grandmas have you been hanging out with lately? Also, did you seriously just say the word crone?” You vaguely considered smothering the little shit with your pillow. No one would blame you. Crone. That jerk.

Belphie smirked at you, and you narrowed your eyes in mock annoyance.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

***

You woke up the next morning to an irate Mammon, dragging you out of the twin’s bedroom. You dug your heels in, but he just picked you up over a shoulder and carried you to his own bedroom. Your brain was still waking up, or you would have shrieked at least. You’re unceremoniously dumped on his unmade bed before Mammon started to pace, clearly too pissed off to sit down.

“Why the fuck did you spend the night with them?” Mammon hollered. He’s so agitated, it’s both endearing and aggravating. You get his concern, you really do. But his attentions can be suffocating sometimes, because he’s not you, you’re your own person, and as such, get to make your own decisions about what you think is best for you.

“I have to practice what I believe, Mammon. I believe in second chances. I believe that people can change.” You took a deep breath. “And if I really believe that, then I have to give Belphie a second chance. If I don’t, that means I’m a hypocrite.”

“Ya don’t have to do jack shit for that asshole.”

“I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for myself."

Mammon looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. He probably couldn’t fucking understand your logic. 

“This is who I am, Mammon. This is who I want to be.” 

“Ya know who you’re talking about, right? Demons. We’re all fucking monsters.”

“So monsters don’t deserve kindness?”

“No one died and made you Jesus Christ, Yuki. You’re not an angel.”

“What if it had been you, huh? Wouldn’t you want forgiveness?”

Mammon blanched, looking as if you had slapped him, horrified at the notion. You sighed and rubbed your temple. “I would never ever ever hurt you,” Mammon said, appalled.

You stood up, and went over to embrace him. “I know, Mammon. I really do. I know that’s why you were assigned as my chaperone. And I also know that what happened wasn’t your fault. You didn’t fail me.”

Mammon’s face crumpled and he dropped his face onto your shoulder to hide. “It is… I wasn’t there.” His shoulders started to shake, and you just hugged him harder. You made soft shushing noises, your left hand moved to cup the back of his head, right above the nape. 

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you feel like it was. But I’m telling you, it wasn’t your fault.” You pressed a kiss on the top of his head, and pressed your cheek against his hair. You couldn’t absolve Mammon of his own guilt. Only he could.

“... I can’t go through that again,” Mammon whispered brokenly.

You had to agree. You couldn’t go through seeing yourself die again. At least not without some heavy duty therapy. You were touched by the depth of Mammon’s feelings. “Hey, look at me. I’m here. I’m alive. And I’m here. With you,” you said to ground Mammon in the present. You couldn’t guarantee anything in the future. Not to mention, you were still a mortal. What is the meaning of a mortal life to immortal creatures? Your existence was nothing more than a blink of an eye. But it was doubtful that Mammon would find that reminder comforting right in this instance.

Mammon looked at you when you asked him to. “I’m here,” you repeated, before you gave him a soft small peck on the lips for reassurance. It was just a brush of lips, really.

Mammon looked stunned at you for a second. And then he kissed you, fully, and desperately like a drowning man. It didn’t feel romantic, his lips tasting saltier and more bitter because of his tears, and Mammon was too overwrought even as he kissed you like he was trying to draw the air out of your lungs into his, like if he was suffocating. It was too sad, too angry, too full of pain, too full of need to be comforted, too much like you were trying to staunch an invisible bleeding. Your hands moved up to cradle his face. Just about when you were feeling a tad lightheaded, Mammon abruptly let your mouth go, but didn’t escape the cage of your hands.

A little dazed, you looked at Mammon’s blue eyes which looked darker and bluer than ever before. “I’m here, Mammon,” you repeated softly.

Mammon closed his eyes, and just nuzzled your hands, inhaling your scent, as if that grounded him in reality.

“I’m here. And as long as I am, we’ll all find a way forward together, okay?”

Mammon’s opened his eyes, and it was looking at the sky on a summer’s day, all blues and golden light. You smiled at him, and he smiled back.

Baby steps. Baby steps. 

But moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think that's all the angst I've got in me.  
> Credit to Frank Herbert's Dune for the Litany of Fear, Taylor Swift for Bad Blood, and I don't know if you spotted it, but I embedded a playlist in this chapter. The reference to Shake It Off is not in fact for Tay-tay's song, but Florence and the Machine.


End file.
